


history written by the blade

by tigriswolf



Series: randomass prompts [16]
Category: Pathfinder, Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Past Lives, F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-02
Updated: 2012-04-02
Packaged: 2017-11-02 22:00:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/373792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tigriswolf/pseuds/tigriswolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's dreaming of bloody snow again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	history written by the blade

**Author's Note:**

> Title: history written by the blade  
> Fandom: Star Trek reboot/Pathfinder  
> Disclaimer: not my characters  
> Warnings: spoilers for both films  
> Pairings: none stated—implied Jim/Bones  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 540  
> Point of view: third  
> Notes: for acidquill's birthday, to her prompt of angsty hurt/comfort Jim/Bones

He's dreaming of bloody snow again.

Jim's still unconscious from the last rescue mission, Spock's Acting Captain, Sulu and Chekov are navigating their way home, Uhura's in the bed next to Jim's, and Scotty is wrangling another miracle from the ship.

And Bones is dreaming of bloody snow, of Vikings and villages of natives, of screaming and pain and hate and a sword that calls to him, that he wields like it's a part of him. Bones is dreaming of being a killer because that's what he was planetside.

That's what he became for Jim.

Bones doesn't believe in reincarnation. One life, that's all you get, so you'd better damn well do your best. He doesn't believe he's lived before or that he'll live again, but the dreams are so vivid — he can smell the blood and taste the death, feel the snow beneath him and the cold hilt in his hand, can see the mountains and the bodies, and hear the screams of men he's fatally wounded, the cries of that woman he loves.

Jim's alive because he acted. Because he took up the sword. Because he saw Jim go down and there was a sword on the table, left there by their 'hosts,' and he grabbed it, used it even though he'd never thought about it before.

He's not Sulu. He doesn't know how to use a sword. He can barely hit the broad-side of a barn with a phaser. He's a doctor, damnit, not a warrior.

He's dreaming of bloody snow, one hand resting on Jim's chest, his palm above Jim's heart. He's dreaming of turning back an invasion, of killing dozens of men because they attacked him, because they massacred his village. He's dreaming of gentle hands that comforted him and a white horse that led the way.

Jim's chest hitches and Bones wakes, eyes instantly at Jim's face. Jim's waking himself, looking none the worse for the wear. A quick scan shows the same. Jim'll be fine, the stupid kid; his never-ending self-sacrificial streak didn't kill him this time.

This time. But what about the next? Bones knows for a fact there'll be a next time.

"Bones," Jim murmurs, eyes slitted against the bright sickbay lights. "Did we git'em?"

"Yes," Bones tells him. "You'll be fine, Jim, and so will Uhura."

Jim tries to move, but Bones shakes his head. "You're stayin' right there till I've cleared you."

"I gotta check on the crew, Bones," Jim argues. "How's everyone else?"

"We're the only ones who made it back," Bones tells him. "You were the worst hurt — Uhura got cracked on the head when she tried to save you."

Jim blinks at him. Bones silently berates himself; he should have saved that news for later. "Go back to sleep, Jim," he orders. "I'll explain everything when you wake up again."

He knows that Jim'll fight sleep till he's blue in the face, so he sedates him. Jim can ream him out later. At least there's a later this time.

"You should follow your own advice," Christine tells him, but Bones ignores her.

He doesn't want to dream about bloody snow, or the woman who nearly died there, the woman who reminds him so much of Jim.


End file.
